Behold The Scarlet Winged Angel
by Stormchilde
Summary: Tag to Angel Dark - Demon Bright. Harper's thoughts on changing the future.


Title: Behold The Scarlet Winged Angel  
Author: Harper's Cat  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Andromeda or any of the characters. I don't make any money from writing this. (If I had my own Harper, I'd never stop smiling)  
Rating:   
Setting/Season: Season One  
Spoilers: Season One - Angel Dark, Demon Bright.  
Warnings:  
Comments/Feedback: Don't forget to feed The Cat!  
Summary: Harper's thoughts about his plan to change the future.  
A/N: My second attempt at Andromeda Fanfic. Not beta'd, all errors are mine alone. 

The heavens burned, the stars cried out  
And under the ashes of infinity,  
Hope, scarred and bleeding,  
Breathed it's last.

I'm a freakin genius but they still ruined my plans, it almost didn't work.  
Almost.  
I hate the Nietzscheans, more than even Beka can ever understand. I've seen and experienced things that I can never share with them, things that even I don't want to remember. I have a chance here and now to change all that. To make it all just a terrible nightmare that will never come to be. I don't care what kind of future I create with my actions here, anything is better that the one I knew. Anything.

Tyr, damn his cagey soul. He knew something was up and he never said a thing. He avoided everyone, he argued with me, he did everything he could to avoid a confrontation. Why?

Trance. She knows things; she's not the innocent little girl she wants everyone to think she is. She knew. She knew what I was going to do and she messed it all up. Got me into trouble with the Boss with her big, pretty eyes and her 'I'm just a helpless little airhead' routine. I saw her laughing just before Dylan turned to look at her and that stupid mask of her was back up in a an instant. I could hate her right now but it would never last.

Beka. She would have patted me on the head and told me to be careful. She wouldn't have even asked me how until it was all over. Plausible deniability. She's trying to go with the flow, be Dylan's buddy but I know she hates the Nietzscheans almost as much as I do.

Rommie, what I did to her was wrong, but I really thought she'd understand, I can't believe she doesn't. She's a warship for crying out loud, she should. She wanted to go after them almost as much as I did.

Rev would have told me I was taking a dark path, tried to talk me out of it. The Divine this and The Divine that. Rev and Dylan, they make a great pair.

And speaking of our good Captain Dylan. I knew he'd never go for it. He thinks everyone deserves to live, even the damn Nietzscheans. Always with the helping hand even if he's in danger of getting that hand bitten off, he still holds it out.

Rommie! Rommie locked me in my room like I was some errant child. How could she treat me like this? I hate it in here, there's nothing to do, no access to anything, nothing to keep the memories away, to keep my mind from going back. I worked so hard, had such dreams that I could make a better future and it's all turned to ashes. I had a chance to change it and Trance ruined it. There's nothing I can do to change the awful future that awaits me now.  
Ten minutes. It's been a whole ten minutes since I checked the time. God! I'm gonna go nuts locked up in here. I'm too wired to sleep, too tired to think of some way to get out of here.

Oh, now you want my help. Now it's too late you big idiot. No. I'm a genius I can still pull this off.  
Dylan with his brooding angst, plotting the death of one hundred thousand Nietzscheans and he's acting like it's the worst thing in the world. He has no idea.

Dylan is the angel of death, not me, not useless, stupid old Harper. Me, I came up with the plan, I rigged the catalyst and he gets all the credit.

One hundred thousand Nietzscheans. Dead, fried to a crisp and I've changed nothing.  
I didn't save my friends, didn't save my family. Death, famine, torture is still our future, slavery to the Drago-Kasov pride. I thought that killing all those Nietzscheans. would make things better but it didn't change anything, not one damn thing. The Magog will still rape my cousins, the Nietzscheans will still murder my parents and I will still grow up to be a sickly, abused Nietzschean mudfoot slave.  
If The Divine truly exists, It has a wicked sense of humor.


End file.
